


In The Truly Gruesome Do We Trust

by Ryan_Haywoodya_haphap



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Based on the Gorn VR videos, Blood, Graphic Description, M/M, Violence, shippy if you pay attention, they bond, tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryan_Haywoodya_haphap/pseuds/Ryan_Haywoodya_haphap
Summary: Their friendship was just between them, like a secret so poorly whispered.To the rest of the world, they were just a team.They were The Battle Buddies.





	In The Truly Gruesome Do We Trust

Jeremy took a sharp breath of the dusty air. 

This was it. 

The cheering of the crowd was rattling the stadium, the clapping, and cheering, people stomping their feet to work up the atmosphere. 

This was it. 

He stood in a cage, like an animal, the crowd taunting and teasing him. Blood was rushing to his ears and he could taste the adrenaline on his tongue. The air was hot and humid, sweat already dripping from his poorly protected body. He could see the sand brush past in the wind, like little water waves carried by air to somewhere better hopefully. Anywhere was better than this. The faint glow that dusted over Jeremy's sandals was starting to grow, and he knew it was nearly time. It was hard to keep a straight face when he wanted to break down. 

This was his first fight and he was fucking scared shitless. 

But he knew there was no place for fear. 

His fingers curled around the hammer he held so dearly, it had won him his life in the trial rounds between him and fellow slaves. His life depended on this dumb chunk of steel. It made him feel as close to safe as he could get. His feet carried him, subconsciously almost, into the arena and the uproar of the crowd shook stone. Jeremy could feel it. The vibration of sound, the lust, and desire for blood. The want to be entertained. 

However, the uproar wasn't just for him, or even his team. No, but also his opponent who had entered at the same time as him. Legends and stories were passed around of this man, a man the crowd so accurately named "Minotaur". Whispers and rumours spread but Jeremy knew they were more than just stories made up to scare fighters.   
The man who wore a helmet with bull tusks and some say he crafted it from a real skull. His armour was minimum, none was made large enough to fit around his beefy body. The only protection the man had on were steel knee and elbow caps, lined with spikes. Jeremy knew they were sharp enough to tear through skin. 

This man was going to effortlessly wipe out six slaves who couldn't even fight one another and survive. It was going to be a slaughter. 

It was like a bull charge. The ground under Jeremy's feet rattled with every step this large man took until they got faster and faster, like a sprint which left a trail of dust and sand in its wake. Heavy grunting and what Jeremy could only describe as a wolf-like snarl got louder and louder like it was calling for him to make a move.   
Jeremy wasn't the first to move, however. In fact, he stayed put, standing still while others charged. He watched the mace collide with one man's jaw, the lower half of his face disconnecting in a way Jeremy never thought possible. The next slave who gave it a shot got a hit in, sure, it made the crowd cheer; but was having his head cracked like an egg worth it? 

Those who still stood started to split up, the four men seeming to move to other sides of the arena.   
Like a dog following a scent, this man went after them one by one. He cracked skulls with his mace or smacked them against the arena walls. There was no stopping him and Jeremy was next. 

The first swing came from the man's mace and Jeremy made a move to spin his body enough that he only got caught in the shoulder, the skin tearing like paper. He didn't have time to stop and cry about it because he had to move, and quickly. The next swing could've taken Jeremy's head off if he hadn't hit the ground and scrambled.   
Sweat mixed with sand when Jeremy's body collided with the ground of the arena. The sound vibrated the ground under him and nearly made stone shake, the crowds screaming and cheering was echoing around him like a constant reminder of what was to come. 

Running was a cowardly move but Jeremy had to find his footing. The mace swing to Jeremy's hip had him tumbling into the sand once more and he felt sand mix with blood. He wasn't going to lay down and just die. As the man approached, Jeremy got a good look at his fat fucking face squeezed into his helmet before he lunged, tossing sand into the man's eyes and giving a good crack in the side of the ribs with his hammer. 

Yes, the sand trick was a dirty move but there were no rules in the pit. Fight or die. That was it. And Jeremy knew which one he was going to choose.   
The next swing of his hammer was stopped by a hand on his wrist and a nasty headbutt that had Jeremy stumbling back and it was the rough kick to the knee that had him on the ground again. A swift knee to the face tore up the skin and most certainly broke his nose. 

He could hear the wind starting to gather as the man swung his mace, winding it up for a good smack. 

At least it would be a quick death. 

It was only a few seconds, but Jeremy thought about everything he was grateful for, everything he missed, like his family, his parents. He missed them so much. He wondered if they thought about him too. Did they miss him? Probably not. He never was the favourite son anyway. 

Jeremy felt everything stop at once. He assumed it was what death felt like, so he opened his eyes. The crowd had gone silent and he could see why. The man before him, mace held high was still swinging but not with force, skewered from shoulder to toe with a spear. Blood rained down like a fountain when the weapon was removed, the crowd once again erupting into nothing but screams and cheers for this new hero. 

Jeremy could have broken his neck with how fast it snapped up, his gaze immediately flying upward to the man behind the collapsing body. He looked…flawless. The sun was shining behind him, giving him a nearly Godly glow in the mist of the sand that swirled behind him like a smoke screen. His spear was still held out and blood pooled from it, yet not a drop seemed to be anywhere on this man's body. His hair was a dirty blonde but Jeremy didn't know if it had just not been washed, or if that was its colour, pulled back into a messy ponytail. 

Jeremy knew now wasn't the time, but this man was pretty and probably about to kill him. What Jeremy hadn't expected was to find a hand outstretched to pull him up. Jeremy didn't even know where he came from but he had saved his life, so he took it and was pulled to his feet, and greeted with a beautiful smile. 

But it was not over yet. Their opponent was still alive and Jeremy knew he had to deliver the finishing blow to end it all. 

As if his partner had read his mind, Jeremy found a spear being handed to him with a small nod from the man next to him. "Go." He was told and go he did. 

Jeremy took long, slow steps as he watched the man choke on his own blood against the sand. He didn't even wait for the crowd to decide if his life should be spared or not before the spear was in the air and back down again, the 'whoosh' sound of the metal cutting the air creating a nice after effect after Jeremy had torn a thin line across the man's throat. It took a second or two before his head fell back, his neck opening like a box with its lid being pushed off. 

The crowd's screams filled the air and Jeremy thought it might be heard all over the city. He could hear the flutter of birds that the noise had disturbed fly over and the sounds of the gates being opened, probably for them to be escorted and shoved back into a cell until their next fight.   
__________________________________________________________________________________   
Ryan, as Jeremy had learned into the night when the pair were shoved in a cell together, was not a slave. But rather a volunteer. He loved the sport. It seemed to be all he had left these days. 

"Did…did you see it happen?" Jeremy asked through a hiss, his eyes following the soft movements of Ryan's hand as the man cleaned his shoulder. 

"No…No. I was not home when the fire started. To think, from a full farm to only a cow left." He chuckled, but Jeremy could see that his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Poor Edgar, she had to live in the basement for months until I could afford to rent her a field to live in." He said with a bit of a smile, mumbling a soft sorry as he brushed the rough cloth over Jeremy's shoulder. 

"So... you joined the games for...a cow?" Jeremy asked with a bit of disbelief to his tone. He might just think Ryan had lost his mind if he said yes, but the laughter that lit up the cell made Jeremy's face flush with embarrassment. And yeah, maybe it made his heart speed up a little. 

"God, no!" Ryan laughed, his hand pausing as he looked up to Jeremy with a genuine smile this time. "No, I did it...To live, I guess?" He said like it was a question. To live? Ryan joined the sport of killing to live...Maybe he was insane. "I'm not going to live forever and I figured, hey, now or, never right? Besides, not like I've got anything left to live for so if I die fighting then maybe someone will remember me." 

Jeremy couldn't help the way his mouth fell slack, his eyes scanning Ryan's handsome face like his features would give him the answer he was searching for.   
"I'll remember you." He let slip. "If I live longer than you, that is." He said with a bit of awkward chuckle. Because that was a normal thing to say to someone you just met. Nice one, Jeremy. 

Ryan's head lifted a little, a smile on his lips. It really was a beautiful smile. "That's all I could ask for." _______________________________________________________________________________   
Jeremy never entered the pit alone after that night. Him and Ryan became close to inseparable. They talked long into the night, about family or their lives before the games. Ryan just had a farm and lived alone, sold things at the local market. Jeremy was just a street thief who stole from the wrong person. 

Maybe it was the situation and that he had no-one else, and never had, but Jeremy found himself bonding with Ryan. They became a team, something unstoppable and a well-recognized pair in the arena. They were a fan favourite and people travelled from all over to watch them fight. 

They would fight together. Jeremy would take hits for Ryan and Ryan would have his back in return. Ryan had taught him how to use a spear perfectly and he became graceful with it too, while Ryan became a master with a sword. They became more than just cellmates, they became a team. Best friends. Jeremy had never really had friends before, and neither had Ryan, so paraphs they found themselves in one another. Maybe Jeremy's heart would stop whenever Ryan was struck or hurt. Maybe his best friend was more than that now.   
But that would never be. Ryan loved Jeremy, yes, but not in the way Jeremy loved Ryan. Their friendship was just between them, like a secret so poorly whispered. To the rest of the world, they were just a team. 

They were The Battle Buddies. 

A playful name that Ryan had suggested and Jeremy took to it immediately. "Battle buddies!", crowds would chant. They would scream and cry out for the pair and Ryan loved every second of it, Jeremy however, was just happy to see Ryan getting what he wanted. People were going to remember him. They were going to write about him, about his victories and how he was an unstoppable swordsman in a fight. People were going to remember Ryan Haywood. 

They would remember how he fought with courage and strength like he wasn't afraid to die. How he cut down anyone in his way and how he was graceful when he did it too. Like the wind, quick and sharp. How he would risk a slash or a wound to save Jeremy's life, and how he would cut limbs from bodies before finally ending their suffering.   
And maybe people would remember how he tore down his best friend in the arena. How he ripped a hole in Jeremy's chest and watched him bleed out on the sand, and how he had fallen to his knees and screamed at the ground, punching it until his fists were bloody and raw. How Ryan had held Jeremy in the cold for hours, his blood the only thing keeping Ryan warm but even that went cold eventually. 

But that's a history lesson you won't find in the books.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the sad ending...  
> I wrote the fight scene out, but I decided to cut it. Maybe I'll post it as a second chapter type thing if people want to read it but who knows 
> 
> Tumblr in case anyone wants to quests something because it fills my life with a basic will to live ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯   
> https://ryan-haywoodya-haphap.tumblr.com/


End file.
